Grey Eyes (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

19. Lost in Transit

I brush my damp hair out of my face and peek my head out the door before walking out awkwardly.

I had put Sirius' borrowed clothes on in the bathroom only to find that they were way too big for me. The waistband of the sweats had to be rolled up several times and the hem of his t-shirt hung over my thighs pretty comically.

"Hey, Sirius," I call out as I shut the bathroom door behind me, "you know you could've just went into my room to get some of my own clothes... hello?"

My eyes sweep the room puzzled. Wait a minute, he's not even here.

"Wow," I comment as I plop down onto his bed. 

Now what? Wait for him here on his own bed? ...Okay, no that's awkward. I jump off the bed and wander around the room, scrutinizing all his stuff. Despite its awesome size, the room is actually pretty barren now that I take a good look at it.

I didn't notice while I was in shock from the rapist pedophile ghost, but the entire room actually kind of smells like Sirius too. Some part of my mind found it familiar and almost... comforting. Wait, I know how he smells like now? Thaaaat's a tiny bit creepy.

 As I roll my eyes at the thought of all his fangirls waiting for him back at Hogwarts, my eyes catch the sight of a small desk by the window. It's covered in scrolls of parchment of a myriad of lengths.

Huh, didn't make him out as much of a writer.

I pull out the wooden chair and collapse onto it, perusing all the writings. I pick one up and bring it closer to the candle light.

"It's... a letter," I breath out in amazement. "To me?"

I unscroll the parchment a bit more and begin to read aloud softly to myself, "I know you're probably not going to end up reading this as usual, but you know me. I'm just going to write it anyway."

I stare at the words in confusion. What's that supposed to mean? I knew him? But... I look at the date. It's dated last year in the winter, long before we even met at King's Cross.

"So... it's that day again. How long's it been now? Almost seven years? I wonder if you even remember. Some part of me hopes that you don't remember any of it, if only because that'd mean you not contacting me all these years wasn't out of loathing. Imagining the unlikely is far more preferable to the truth, but I guess what I'd really prefer is if all this never happened. Empty wishing huh? Wow, this letter is getting depressing. On another note, guess what my mate James and I did today! We got these dung bombs and totally screwed over Professor Gru—"

What in the... what is he talking about?

I drop the letter back on the table and blindly grab for another one. I probably shouldn't even be reading these, but I can't take my eyes away from them. I knew him before. I knew Sirius Black. Or at least he knew me. But why can't I remember?

I glance at the date again. Nearly seven years ago.

"I had this idea to write letters to you today. I know it's stupid and all, but we haven't seen each other ages and I miss you. But I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me. To be honest, I don't even know why I'm doing this. You'll never read this. You'll never see this. You'll probably never even see me again. But I still want to talk to you, even if it's only just like this."

Five years ago.

"I just started school today at Hogwarts. I got sorted into Gryffindor! Blimey, can you imagine Mum and Dad's faces when they found out? But it made me wonder what house you'd be sorted into. Hufflepuff because you're the nicest person I know? Ravenclaw because you're so bloody smart it drives me mad? Maybe even Slytherin because you're a pureblood like me. Or if a god exists in this world, maybe he'd let you join me in Gryffindor. You deserve a place here more than me anyway."